


The Burn from a Bright Star

by Entropyrose



Series: Season of the Devil [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alexei Kravinoff, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-21 14:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7391908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 in Season of the Devil Series, but can be read alone. Revenge comes knocking for the Punisher. Matt Murdock gets life-altering news. <br/>Or, It is said that the Cat who eats the Canary can have some very feathery indigestion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

The Burn from a Bright Star

 

Frank's limp body lingered in the weightlessness of space. Shattered glass sliced through his skin, and time itself slowed to a dead crawl. It sounded like crystal and felt like ocean-water. He was floating. 

His eyes snapped open just before impact. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and braced himself as the world went by him in reverse. His back connected with a brick wall and knocked the air out of his lungs. Of course it had to be a /brick/wall, Frank thought, as he felt a rib snap. 

He landed on the cement ground and shook his head. There was a pounding vibration under his shattered palms. His head snapped up just in time to see a massive figure charging at him. Frank rolled out of the way and sprang to his feet, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain in his side and the flecks of glass in his face. He realized then that he couldn't see out of one eye, but that would have to wait. His guns all empty, he reached for the knife in his boot.

"Jeeezus," the shadowy figure boomed. "Why don't you just stay down?" 

Frank charged the man, bounding off a wall and launching himself at him, only to have the knife twisted away and plunged into his thigh. A pained roar erupted from his throat. He was wrenched off like a rag doll and tossed backwards at the wall. Frank's feet slipped from sheer exhaustion and he bent a knee. 

"What do you say in America?," muttered the man. "Ah. Live to fight another day." He wrapped his fist around Frank's neck and squeezed. Frank felt his entire body lurching forward, his weight hanging in the looming monster's grip, before being thrust into the brick once more. Cinder fell off in chunks. There came another cracking noise, but Frank couldn't locate the pain. Frank's legs kicked in midair. Everything was going black. The deep chuckle that eminated from the man chilled Frank's core. He /knew/ the voice...yet he could not place the face. 

Frank's eyes slowly blinked closed, a stream of bloody drool leaking from his mouth. The weightlessness returned, enveloping him like a warm blanket, and the darkness claimed him.

* * * * *

Foggy followed Matt down the steps of the courthouse, where flashing cameras and a mob of reporters waited.

“Mr. Murdock!”

“No statements at this time,” he said, his lips curving into a tight smile. He pushed his shoulder into an opening between two reporters, but they moved in. 

“This is the first defeat of Nelson and Murdock in over twenty cases,” the reporter continued. How does the Accused feel about the Guilty verdict?”

“Again  no comments at this time. Thank you. Matt shouldered into them more forcefully this time, swinging an elbow out and pushing away a camera. 

A microphone jabbed into his face, knocking his glasses off and onto the sidewalk.

“Really?,” Foggy snapped at the anonymous perpetrator. “He is blind, you idiots!”

Matt crouched down onto the pavement, feeling for the wire frames among the shuffling feet.  He grabbed them and stood up, tucking them into his coat pocket.

The camera flashes reflected in his eyes, the dark-brown flickering into a faded greenish-blue, indicative of damaged corneas. 

A voice suddenly broke out of the crowd. “Mr. Murdock!”

Foggy recognized the voice. It was the defendant’s brother, Franco Alissi. “Mr. Alissi,” Matt said, his face fading into a soft, consoling expression. He extended an open hand.

Foggy had seen enough to know that a lawyer who loses the case of a man with six brothers was in for bad news. Instinctively, he caught the attention of  a couple Court Officers who were lingering at the top of the steps. He waved the officers over. 

Foggy had practically begged Matt not to take the case of a man who was related to a family that was heavily involved in the mob. Though Carl Alissi, their client, had claimed no prior involvement, despite being the middle child in a crime-family, Foggy had his many reservations. Mob families were not known for their policies in honesty.

Matt didn’t seem concerned, though, as he took the brother’s hand. Foggy noted the officer’s carefully waiting in the wings, separating the grieving Alissi family and the Victim’s Parents. Franco’s hand grasped Matt’s wrist, his face contorting into a snarl. Foggy saw the cops heading for the steps, hands on their holsters. 

“I would be happy to discuss our options,” Foggy could hear Matt mutter. “I understand you are upset. But I suggest you back off, before you give the cops up there a reason to come down /here/.”

Mr. Alissi’s eyes were glustening with hate and filling with tears. “My brother is good, you know. He never got involved. He doesn’t deserve this. And you fucking /failed/ him.” 

Matt swallowed. “Mr. Alissi,” he began. 

Everything that happened from there was like lightening. A shot rang out, and before he could react, Matt shoved Foggy to the concrete, covering him. He could smell Matt’s aftershave mixed with gunpowder as screams rang out and people dove for cover.

The officers raced down the stairs, wrenching the gun from the assailant. “You failed him!” He bellowed, straining against the policemen. Matt’s head  stayed buried between Foggy’s neck and shoulder blade. 

“You alright?” Foggy squeaked.

“I-I think so.” Matt’s voice was shaken, thready.

Foggy felt something wet and stared down at the large spot of blood smearing his shirt. “Oh god,” he moaned. 

The paramedics boxed in the courthouse as officials ushered the media aside. Cop lights flashed as the scene was Matt stood to his feet and held a hand down to Foggy, gasping a little. “Matt,” Foggy breathed. A small hole was present in Matt’s dress shirt, surrounded by oozing crimson blood.  

“It’s okay, Fog,” Matt said as EMTs rushed up with a gurney and ushered him onto it. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah--yeah--I'm fine." 

This was not the first time Matt had been dealt a bullet--far from it. Foggy was used to coming over to the apartment on a late night or an early morning and seeing Matt sprawled out on the couch, soaked towel in hand, the spent bullet laying on the coffee table, smattered with blood. 

Foggy was relieved, a little; this time, he would at least be recieving medical attention. 

Matt reluctantly boarded the cot and a blood pressure cuff was wrapped immediately around his outstretched arm. "I will ride wth you," Foggy said. 

* * * * * 

Frank's eyes opened to the feeling of a warm light pouring down on him and he moaned. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead." A silvery female voice cooed. 

Frank squinted to see through the light and struggled to sit up. 

"Now, now," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back down. "Not yet, sweet pea. You will fall right over." 

"Let me be the judge of that," Frank groaned. His senses were on high guard. He tried taking in as much of his surroundings as the angle and the light flooding his eyes would allow. His gaze settled on the image of a woman, a halo of blonde hair falling down her shoulders. 

A wet rag was pressed against his face and he winced.

"We took out most of the glass,"  she informed him. "You will have to forgive my brother. He is a little...reactive at times." 

"Well, I was aiming at gat* at him, so." (*gatling gun)

She chuckled, her voice sending an inexplicable chill through him. "I like you," she said, leaning inward, her ample bosom purposefully brushing against his shoulder. "I think we will get along just fine." 

"Where am I?" Frank decided to ask. He had just enough of an idea that if she refused to tell him, it would not matter. But it didn't seem the woman was out to harm him at the moment considering she was tending to his wounds. 

"At the Zoo," she offered. 

Frank blinked slowly.

"Well, it's not a typical zoo, you know. With lions and otters and such? No, this is our /special/ zoo."

Frank got a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

The woman seemed unable to help but release a delighted giggle. "You still have no clue, do you?"

"About what," he growled. 

Her laughter tuned to a disappointed sigh. "Oh well, no matter. You'll know soon enough. For now..." She turned back to the wet rag, soaked with Frank's blood, and continued dabbing his forehead. "We have to make you all better." 

Frank moved his head away as much as he was able, bumping her elbow in the process and sending the rag to the floor with a 'splat'. 

"Bastard," she murmured. "Ungrateful, aren't you?"

"I'm not an idiot, you know," Frank said, keeping his stare directed at the white light above him. 

"Why, whatever do you mean by that?"

"He's coming back here. And when he does, he plans on making it slow and painful. Why else would you bother cleaning me up?"

She chuckled darkly, and in a flash, buried her long-nailed thumb into Frank's injured rib. 

"AAGGHhhhhh---!" He let out a broken cry and lurched forward off the table. 

"Oh, that must sting," she tisked. 

Frank hurled a wad of blood-tinted spit into her face. 

Unflinching, she wiped it away with a clean cloth. "Keep it coming, Mr. Castle. My brother will be thrilled to see that you are in such good spirits."

"Brother...?" Frank asked, more to himself than to her. 

Her hand swept a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Hush now. I'm going to make you all better. And when my brother returns from his hunt..." A smirk crossed her lips. "Yes, Mr. Castle. He is going to hurt you. He is going to hurt you very, very much." 

* * * * *

Matt poked at the cup of jello, wondering for a moment why it was there. He hadn't ordered it. Still, stabbing the wiggling goo with a flimsy plastic fork took away from the constant beeping noises produced by the various machines surrounding him. 

He heard the curtain slide open. "Hey, Matty," said Foggy. "How are you feeling?" 

Nobody--get that---Nobody, was allowed to call him Matty. Except for Foggy, mostly because he couldn't stop him but partially also because it was the name that Foggy called him when he was extra-concerned. Made him feel better, Matt guessed. So whatever. 

The comical squeaking sound that mylar balloons made jumbled his thoughts. "I got you some balloons," Foggy offered helpfully. "They're all mylar. Because, you know, some people have latex allergies. Anyway, one is a red heart, one is blue and says "get well" and another one is Transformers. Because they were 3 for $7 and our only other option was Disney Princesses.

"Thanks, man." Matt tried to chuckle but most of the air in his lungs came out his nose instead, making an odd snuffing sound. Suddenly, he felt dizzy. He blinked and rolled his head back to the pillow. "Where are my glasses?" 

"Uhm, in your belongings bag, I think."  

Matt's mind was back to dwelling on the beep and hum of the machines and wondering when the Doctor was going to release him. 

"Mr. Murdock?" 

Well, speak of the devil. 

"Yes." He sat upright again, as if looking the part might get him out sooner. 

"And you are?," The doctor addressed Foggy. 

"This is my associate, Mr. Nelson." 

"I see. Well, Mr. Nelson I am going to have to ask you to excuse us for a moment to discuss some medical matters..." 

"It's okay," Matt volunteered. "He can stay." 

The Doctor was silent; Matt took that to mean hesitant, as in, there was something in the chart that didn't look right. Or maybe they wanted to ask Matt about the several old bullet wounds, most of which had become permanent scars, even though he didn't even so much as have a primary healthcare provider. "Please," Matt pressed. "Anything you have to say can be said in front of Fogg-er, Mr. Nelson." 

The Doctor mumbled something--something that Matt caught because of his increased hearing abilities, but wasn't able to make out completely. It sounded like, "Whatever." 

Matt frowned. 

"Mr. Murdock, you will be happy to know that the bullet went clean through. The Surgeon has ordered Xrays to ensure there are no pieces of shrapnel or metal left behind, but we are confident that it is unlikely in your case. The bullet barely missed your spleen and went straight through a kidney and your lower intestine, but surgery and fast response time will have you up and walking again sooner, rather than later." 

Matt smiled. "That's great. So, am I good to go home---?"

"Mr. Murdock, I want you to understand how very lucky you are. A few more centimeters would have involved your spleen, and possibly portions of rib and more of your intestine."

"Well," Matt said dismissively. "I am grateful. You guys did a great job. Thank you."

"Mr. Murdock..." She kept /saying/ that, Matt thought. "You have several...much older bullet wounds. Now, it is none of my business, but I am going to go ahead and assume you have a...a job more dangerous than the average person. Perhaps even more dangerous than the average lawyer. And I want you to take care of---" 

"Yes of course, Doc." Matt nodded, hurriedly. "I will take care of myself." He smiled, as if having been rightly reprimanded at the Principal's office and sat like a good little boy with his hands clasped in front of him. 

"Mr. Murdock..." 

"PLEASE---" Matt barked, then regained control. "I'm sorry, Doctor. Please, call me Matt." 

"Very well. Matt. I want you to be careful, for both of you." 

"Both of us?" Matt turned his head in Foggy's direction. 

"We have been taking care of each other for years," Foggy helped.

"No, not you two," The Doctor corrected, pushing a bottle of pills into Matt's unexpecting hand. 

"What's this?" 

"Prenatal vitamins," she answered dryly. 

Matt blinked. "Oh, okay. So what are they, good for healing or something?" 

It was the Doctor's turn to blink. "Mr. Murdock, don't you know?"

"Know what." 

The doctor stepped in closer, coming to Matt's eye level and grasping his hand. "You are going to have a /baby/." 

"I....am?" Matt asked stupidly. "When? .....wait. What?" 

"You are going to have a baby," she repeated, this time a little louder. "Mr. Murdock, you are carrying a child." 

"I. uh. I didn't see one come in with us..?"  
"NO, Mr. Murdock! I mean, you are pregnant!"

"Oh." Matt's voice was smaller, now, diminished. But he kept his composure. "Okay." 

Foggy was flashing a panicked glance between Matt and the Doctor. 

Matt's throat was suddenly dry and his dark eyes drifted nowhere in particular. 

"You are carrying a baby inside you," The Doctor explained again. "Do you understand?" 

Matt's mind was racing too fast to catch what the Doctor was saying. His thoughts drifted back in time, from being stabbed that one night on the Docks--nearly a year ago now--with a needle filled with the Affect, to the first sign of heat, to trying to contain this overwhelming urge to put something inside of himself, to a flashback of Frank bending him over the kitchen counter. 

His arms wrapped around Frank. 

His legs wrapped around Frank. 

Their mouths....

He gasped for air suddenly, clutching the filmy hospital sheets, his insides screaming to get out.

 

* * * * *

 


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank loved Matt’s body—the long, lean muscle wrapped around elegant bones that jutted out in just the right places. His hip bones, the joints of his elbows, his shapely legs. He drew in a quiet breath, his eyes drinking in the gentle slope of his back and the dimples that Frank just went crazy over, his mind lingering on how perfectly his thumbs fit into those dimples went he bent Matt over. His gaze dipped down to Matt’s exquisitely rounded ass and the perfect, tight folds of skin where his legs began. Absentmindedly, his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip.

A fluorescent light fluttered on above Frank’s head, it was one of those cheap chain light bars that cops use in interrogation rooms. Another flickered on past the first, then another and another, dully, revealing a long, vast hallway. 

Cries from several different voice erupted, shattering an eerie silence. The deafening clash of metal bars made Frank’s skin crawl. “Shut UP!,” his captor bellowed. 

Frank had been outfitted with a bright orange jumpsuit. All of his guns, knives, and bulletproof armor were gone. Where, Frank didn’t know. He kept his eyes forward as he was shoved further down the hallway, but through the corner of his vision he caught glimpses of the creatures behind the bars: All had humanoid faces, some looking more animal than man, and some he even recognized. There was Black Cat, her face warped with scars and scratches, perched on top of a metal bunk, her unkempt hair flowing through the bars. In a corner, sulking in the shadows, Green Goblin’s scratched his nails down a concrete wall. “Talk to me, pretty boy,” Frank heard him hiss. 

A towering yellow and orange beast slammed himself up against the bars. “Punisher,” he chuckled darkly. Frank could not place him, but apparently the mutant knew who /he/ was. 

“Have you figured it out yet?” The man who had brought him here asked, placing his hand on an empty cell door, sliding it open. “You’re disappointing me.”

“I think so,” he offered, the corner of his mouth turning up into a grin. “Thing is, you look nothing like your old man did. Especially after I blew his face off with my 48.”

The larger man’s eyes flashed. “You should be careful, Punisher. With a flick of my hand I could open all these doors and let these poor bastards have their way with you. Yes…I think I would much enjoy that.”

“They would come for you, first,” Frank growled. “The thing that caged them.”

The man’s black eyes glimmered brightly, and he opened his mouth into a wide smile, revealing spiked teeth. “Should we find out which one of us is right?”

“No, Alyosha!” His sister snapped, stamping her foot down on the concrete with a high heel that made a resounding clack. “You promised me I’d get to play first!”

Alyosha let out a conceding groan, rolling his eyes at Frank. “Ah, women.” 

He grabbed a fistful of the back of Frank’s shirt, his long, metal claws tearing into the fabric, exposing Frank’s Marine Corp eagle tattoo. He threw him into the cell and slammed the door.

Frank landed directly onto his injured ribs, and sucked down a cry. He rolled to his feet, still clutching his sides, every ounce of his strength being employed to crawl to the cot along the wall. He landed on it with a thud, buckling his knees and digging his elbows into the thin padding.

“Sleep well.” Alyosha threw over his shoulder with a laugh. 

“Good night!,” his sister chimed in. “Tomorrow night we’ll have some /very/ important guests to entertain. Rest up!”

The footsteps drifted off to the end of the hallway, and the lights flickered off, one by one. Darkness enveloped the makeshift prison.

“They got him too?” One of the captives whispered. “This isn’t funny anymore. Punisher was our last hope.”

Frank let his head sink back as he steadied his breathing. A few of them rapped on their bars, heckling him, taunting him, but he blocked them out. He needed to prepare himself as soon as possible, but first, he had to rest. 

* * * * * 

One week earlier…

“I think I’m getting fat,” Matt muttered. Frank looked up from the bed as morning light streamed in. Matt had his red tie clenched between his teeth as he fumbled with his shirt buttons, pulling up where the fabric met his belly. His lower half was perfectly naked.

Frank loved Matt’s body—the long, lean muscle wrapped around elegant bones that jutted out in just the right places. His hip bones, the joints of his elbows, his shapely legs. He drew in a quiet breath, his eyes drinking in the gentle slope of his back and the dimples that Frank just went crazy over, his mind lingering on how perfectly his thumbs fit into those dimples went he bent Matt over. His gaze dipped down to Matt’s exquisitely rounded ass and the perfect, tight folds of skin where his legs began. Absentmindedly, his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip. 

Matt tilted his head. “Frank.”

“Huh. What?”

Matt blinked. “You’re hopeless.” He patted the bed for his pants, but as his fingers touched the fabric, it was pulled away. 

“Mmmmh... c’mere.” Frank pulled the pants towards him, subsequently bringing Matt within arm’s reach. 

“These are Armani,” Matt warned.

Abby the pit bull let out a sleepy “grumphh” and wiggled towards the end of the bed, away from the scuffle that would no doubt ensue. Sure enough, Frank gained the upper hand and pulled Matt down to the bed, rolling him on top, Matt’s legs straddling Frank’s hips. 

Matt let out a grunt and halfheartedly punched Frank’s shoulder, which only produced another pleasured groan. “I have to go to the office.” 

“Nope,” Frank practically sang. “You have to stay here and take care of me. I had a rough night last night.”

“And I’ve got a busy day scheduled, so.” 

Frank slipped the red tie over Matt’s shoulders, expertly winding it around his wrists, and pulled him down for a kiss. “C’mon, Red.”

Matt had no idea what he had been in for when he first mated with Frank. Yes, there was exceptional passion involved in the wake of the heat and rut, but Frank was an animal, period. It seemed he wanted it every day, all day, heat or not. Nonetheless, Matt's mouth parted as Frank’s tongue slid inside, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Have to go,” he murmured, helpless in Frank’s bulky arms. But suddenly his world was spinning.

Frank rolled onto him, pinning him to the bed, deepening the kiss. He let Matt's tie slip from his fingers, and Matt took the opportunity to retrieve it. He quickly strung it around the now-crumpled collar of his shirt and wedged a leg out from under Frank. "Come on!" he muttered.

Frank's kisses trailed down Matt's chest to his stomach, his lips lovingly caressing the soft skin there. His tongue flicked out and lapped at Matt's navel and Matt couldn't stop a squeal from escaping his throat. 

"That tickles!"

Frank's hands, big, square, and calloused, swept over his belly. "Gonna put a baby right here," he whispered, squeezing down gently on the word "here".

Matt froze, feeling the heat travel to his face. He nudged a hand at Frank's head. "Get off," he muttered. 

Frank's bangs tickled the skin right below his navel as he pressed a ring of kisses around Matt's stomach, undeterred. 

"You had better take that back, too." Matt added.

'What?" 

"The whole...you know...'baby' thing."

Frank paused, his hands going still on Matt's thighs. "I am never going to take that back." 

Matt sensed that he had just hit a major nerve-Frank had slipped into Punisher mode in that instant, his voice cold. "I'm...Frank, I'm..." Matt couldn't say it. He just couldn't say he was sorry. Sorry for hurting Frank, yes, but Frank should have never mentioned a baby. It was overwhelming and frightening to think about and----with Matt being an Omega----an actual possibility. 

"I told you I want to make a baby with you, Matt." It always felt foreign when Frank spoke his actual name. For the most part, he called him Red. It grabbed Matt's attention and forced him to realize that Frank was serious. Matt squirmed a little underneath him. Frank was no doubt staring into his eyes, that very earnest look on his face, mixed with a tinge of disappointment. 

Frank sighed--he must have tired from waiting for a response--and now he was the one to slip off the bed. He slipped a thumb into his boxers and slipped them off easily, stepping out of them and heading to the bathroom. Moments later, Matt could hear the shower running. 

Matt wanted nothing more than to comfort him, say he was sorry, make amends, but Matt knew that with Frank, words were cheap and actions meant everything. 

Frank was already in the shower when Matt slipped in behind him. Frank was a great roomate to live with--he took up very little space (heck, Abby took up the majority of it) and barely waited for the water to get above freezing before showering, which saved energy. Of course, Matt knew that's not why Frank did it, it just worked out that way. 

Matt felt unbelievably stupid in no bottoms and his wrinkled shirt and a red, dry-clean only tie as he felt for the shower wall and found Frank with his foot. He latched both arms around Frank and squeezed, becoming instantaneously drenched in the cold spray. 

The muscles of Frank's back went rigid under his cheek, then relaxed. Slowly, Frank's hand curled around his. He could almost /feel/ Frank's slight smile. "I'm an ass," Matt said. 

"You are an ass," Frank agreed. There was tender forgiveness in his voice. 

* * * * * 

Matt was through with surprises. 

Surprises had never done anything good for him in his life. Not the freak accident that blinded him, not the random henchman that had injected him with the Affect, not the loss in court nor the batshit crazy brother of the defendant attempting to murder him with a gun, and certainly not this. 

A baby...? 

Matt stared into the bathroom mirror, as if it would do him any good, as if he could fucking *see* what the Affect was doing to him. But Frank spent alot of time staring into it; the ony mirror in the place. Maybe it would help? Matt didn't get the nuiance. His hands felt around his stomach as he remembered the doctor's words. 

/"You won't feel any movement for a few more weeks, but he---or she---is in there./

Matt shook his head. All the thoughts that swirled around him, nagging at him, vying for attention. How could he run an office? How would he dress? Because as far as he knew, they had yet to make a men's maternity line of business suits. 

"You sure about this?" Foggy appeared in the doorway, a hand on either side of the posts. 

"I am." Matt regained his composure, zipping up his suit, which was a little snug in the middle, and donning his hood. 

/Pregnant Daredevil. What a fucking laugh./

"I don't see how antagonizing the Alissi's is going to help the case." 

"That's not the point," Matt retorted. "Franco was released today on bail." He fastened his mask over his eyes. "There doesn't seem to be an amount of money the Court can post that the Alissi's can't buy." 

"But if it's safety you're worried about," Foggy squeaked, "I can have a patrol team surrounding this entire block in two minutes." 

Matt shook his head and stalked out of the bathroom, grasping his billy club on the way to the open window. He tossed his cell phone to Foggy, who caught in in his unexpecting hands, just barely. "If Frank calls, you tell him where I'm at." A sting of worry coursed through him. It had now been two days. The longest time they hadn't seen each other since...

"Be careful," Foggy pleaded. "Come back to me in one piece, Matty."

Matt nodded sharply and disappeared into the cold night air. 

* * * * * 

"I really would prefer torture." Frank stared into the mirror. He felt ridiculous; decked out in a black monkey suit, with a red bow tie that was far too tight, and a black cumberbund that squeezed against his aching ribs. 

Alexei let out a sharp laugh and as she slipped a silk handkerchief into his pocket. She herself was dressed to kill, with a glittering night-blue dress on, her blonde hair straightened into soft waves that fell down to the middle of her exposed back. Frank's eyes narrowed and for just a moment he allowed himself to imagine how easy it would be to snap that boney back, if it came to it. "Aww, Frankie, you're really not being any fun about this." 

"What's the matter with you?" /besides the obvious/, Frank thought. "You don't have a boyfriend or something? I imagine a girl like you would have a hundred guys lined up waitin' their turn." 

She tilted her head mock-coyly and a blonde tress fell down her shoulder. "Awww. You really think so?" She turned to the dresser, donning a pair of glittering diamond earrings. 

Frank lifted his chin in her direction. "With all that skin you're showing, you'd look like an easy lay." 

Her eyes flashed, that typical Kravinoff-crazy showing before she cleared her throat and forced a shy smile. "Now, now," she sing-songed, sashaying her way to Frank, the diamonds chiming together on their chandelier chains as they swept against her neck, /her easily snappable neck/. "That's no way to treat a lady. How about a little kiss?" She leaned against his wide chest. 

Frank turned his head.

Alexei pouted. "No? Oh, alright." She stepped back to examine her work. "You look very handsome, for a no-good murdering piece of street trash." She tapped a finger on her lip. "Still...something is missing. Oh, I know! A watch." She turned to her closet. 

Frank caught a glimpse of his leather duster and pants, and assumed that mixed into the ball must have been the rest of his clothing. Maybe not the weapons, but...there were hidden knives in the belt of his pants. It was there, too. He could hear it clinking as Alexei rummaged around. 

A "ting" sound interrupted his thoughts. A small, golden ring rolled out of his pocket and onto the marble floor.

Alexei gasped in surprised and lifted it up to the light. "Oh, how sweet!" She mocked. "You kept your wedding band, after all this time?" 

Frank stood silent. /Yeah/, he thought. /Let's go with that/.

"Hmm, seems a bit small for you. Would you like to wear it?" She hobbled to her feet--apparently Alexei was one of those more practical villains that usually wore flats, more apt in fighting than in fashion---and slipped the ring on his finger. "Looks so new," she remarked. 

Frank stiffened as she tried to slip it onto his ring finger. It stuck before the second knuckle. Frank balled his fist, wrenching it away.

Alexei let out a laugh. "Either you've gotten fat since you married that dead bitch," her eyes sparkled with delight. "Or that's not your ring. It looks pretty new, come to think of it." 

"Stop," Frank growled darkly.

Her eyes widened with realization. "That's not your ring, is it. But...that's a man's ring." She snorted, belying her elegant outfit, and launched into uncontrollable laughter. "You---you have a man, don't you? Frank Castle has a man!" 

Frank kept his eyes forward as she bounced around the room. The ring was safe in the crevasse of his hand, and that was what mattered. 

He had stopped into Charlie's on 4th, the best place to get his ammo, and happened to glance down into the glass case at the back of the shop. There it was--a perfect yellow band. Plain, nothing fancy. Simple. He smiled sadly, then, recalling how nervous he was the first time he had picked out an engagement ring--Claire's ring. It was much fancier, with a strappy, elegant band and a much larger stone than a newly-enlisted Marine could afford, but it had been so perfect. He knew it the moment he saw it---that ring was meant for Claire. This ring, in its simplicity, spoke to him too, and Frank had never known that voice to be wrong. He dumped four bills on the counter, along with an extra fifty to cover the ammo. "You keep your mouth shut about this, yeah?" Charlie nodded vehemently, his cigar clutched tightly between his teeth, his eyes glistening with fear. Some days, it was good to be the Punisher. 

"It's okay," Alexei's laughter had finally died down, and she blew out a few slow breaths to regain her composure. She patted Frank's shoulder. "It'll be our little secret." 

"-had better be," Frank muttered. 

"Well. I think we can forget the watch after that little fiasco." She kicked at the wad of Frank's clothing until it disappeared into the floor of the closet once again. "And, we're ready!"   
She hooked her arm around Frank's and stepped on his toe with her heel.

Frank hissed sharply. "Aggh! What!?" 

She motioned towards the door. "Well?! Aren't you going to open the door for me?" 

Frank grabbed the door and ripped it open, sending it bouncing off its hinges. 

Alexei squealed with delight. "Ohhhh! This is going to be so much fun!"

Frank searched the room for a gun. All he really needed was one bullet, if only to put himself out of his own misery. 

* * * * *


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showdown

The first thing Frank noticed when the blindfold came off were the stares of everyone seated at the long wooden table. Several pairs of eyes met his all at once. He was suddenly glad for the too-tight collar around his throat concealing the long swallow he took.

The Alissi Family sat around the table, the fire from the candles only accentuating the murderous gleam in their eyes.

“What is /he/ doing here?!,” Franco Alissi snapped.

Alyosha held up a hand. “Friends, please. It is all in good faith.”

The elder Alissi, (Frank was unsure of his name), was seated next to the empty head of the table and shot upwards from his seat. “You had better explain yourself before I have my boys put a bullet in both your brains.”

Unwavered, Alyosha smiled. “I assure, you, friends, he is fully under my control.”

The elder Alissi stalked over to Frank and clutched his chin, inspecting his face. "How can you be so sure? This man has killed more of my assocites than I can count, and some were family too."

Alyosha produced a slim, black remote from the pocket of his blazer. "No one has lost more to this man than my sister and me. This pile of human filth killed our father in September of 1995 and threw his body in a culvert as if he were trash. I have every reason to wipe him off the globe. But first, he is going to /help/ me fine tune my little device."

"I will do the honors." Alexei had her hand out before her brother finished his sentence.

Alyosha grinned and handed the device over. Frank focused on the device hitting the open palm of the small blonde. He wanted so badly to make a move, to just knock it out of her hand and crush the damn thing. But there were body guards in the each corner of the room and outside, all of whom had heat, and Frank was gunless and vestless.

"You are all aware of the drug that causes the Affect, yes?"

All around the table nodded.

"Well, my big brother has a natural...ability to confine and control animals, and that includes anyone with animal characteristics. The DNA-altering drug created by Formyn Labs takes certain genome sequences from the animal kingdom and splices them with existing human DNA. This device, created by our dear Daddy, enhances the natural control that Alyosha already has over them. And my big brother..." Her smile widened. "...has quite an impressive menagerie already."

"This tells us nothin',"Franco Alissi spat, folding his arms and leaning back in disgust. "What the hell does this guy's animal powers or whatever have to do with getting my brother out of jail?"

Alexei sighed. "Frank, dear? Brace yourself."

She hit the bottom left button and a shockwave raced up his spine. Frank doubled over instantly, gasping for air and clawing at the carpet.

"We're ready," Alyosha said to a guard, and in mere seconds three white-robed figures entered. They were tied together, thier faces covered in thick black hoods, muffled whimpers coming through.

"Frank," Alyosha said, and his eyes turned black.

All feeling had been rushed out of him in an instant. He stood up, his blank eyes staring past everything.

"Break their necks."

The bound figures began screaming and thrashing. Alyosha crossed in front of them and narrated to his now captivated audience. "These are all good people," he began, motioning to the whimpering man closest to him. "Lloyd here is a banker. 56 years old. A loving wife. 4 children, and not so much as a speeding ticket on record. The kind of person Frank Castle lives to protect. "

Frank's body covered the shuddering man, raising his hands to the black hood and grasping hold with an iron grip. A scream. Then SNAP. His lifeless body dropped to the floor, still partially held up by the ropes that bound him to the others.

Alyosha continued. "Maybel here, 67 years young. A school lunch lady. She was about to retire. Last week, she and her husband bought a nice big boat with plans of travelling the world. You know, I love America. I really do. All these wonderful pasttimes. But too many people spend thier busy lives working, never taking vacations. Until..."  
SNAP. Another thud.

"...It's too late."

Alexei giggled and clapped her hands together. "Frank is fully conscious, everyone. He knows exactly what he is doing. Just can't seem to stop himself!" She laughed in delight.

The members of the Alissi family shared impressed, if slightly horrified, glances.

"This little guy's name is Mark. Mark Standish. He is 17, a high school senior, on track to becoming Valedictorian." The last hooded figure thrashed around violently, writhing to escape from the weight of the two bodies and the ropes that held them together. The voice of a young, scared male on the verge of witnessing his own death made even the elder Alissi shudder.

"STOP," he ordered. Alyosha held up his hand and Alexei pushed another button, sending a gasping Frank to his knees once more. His eyes searched the room frantically.

Alexei noticed it first. "He is afraid," she muttered matter-of-factly, as if she were a scientist relaying her findings.

Frank coughed, a hand rising to his neck, as he peered up at the last remaining victim. A stream of yellowish fluid seeped through the white garment and Alyosha grunted in disgust. "Get him out of here before he ruins the carpet."

The ties were cut, and the victims were hauled off, one by one.

"Get up," Alexei ordered, jabbing the pointed toe of her high-heel into his side. Frank gasped a little, but froze in place. "Ally," Alexei pouted, pointing to her problem on the floor.

Alyosha crossed the distance in two quick strides, grabbing Frank by the collar, hauling him up and slamming him against the wall so hard it made the Alissi Family paintings rattle. "She said, GET UP! Scum." The mistreatment popped a button on Frank's dress shirt and Alyosha snapped off the bow tie around it, revealing a thick silver collar fitted with bolts and flashing with red and blue lights. "That's a good doggie," he murmured, releasing Frank.

He turned to the assembly, arms spread wide. "Let's eat!"

Alexei, now satisfied, shot Frank a superior look and slipped her arm under his. "You're invited, too, you know."

Frank sat at the table as the Alissi family lavished thier guests with wine and infinite platters of pig's head and meatballs and fish of all kinds, thier dead eyes staring up at Frank. "Drink," Alexei ordered, raising a glass to Frank's mouth. He looked downward and she frowned. "I still have that little remote, you know. You want me to call that little boy back in here and let you have your way with him? Seeing as that's how you 'swing' these days."

Frank paused a moment before parting his split, sore lips and taking some of the liquid into his mouth. "Good boy," she purred. "See? Isn't it so much nicer when we get along? Too bad you're not into pussy." She reached her hand under the table, giving Frank's dick a rough squeeze, her nails digging in. Frank groaned in pain and bit down on his lip. Fresh blood escaped and tricled down his chin. "I could have made it worth your while." Her hand released him and he gasped as the blood flowed back into his sore cock. He breathed out through his nose, forcing himself to remain still.

The elder Alissi tapped a knife on his wine glass. "A toast," he ordered. "To our esteemed guests. Here's to a long and happy business relationship." Glasses clinked all around.

Frank's hand involuntarily grasped the glass and raised it. He shot a bewildered look to Alyosha, whose grin seemed to take up his entire face. Alexei clinked thier glasses together and smiled. "Such a good boy," she whispered.

Frank squeezed his eyes shut.

Amongst the smells of undercooked meat and aged fine wine, a new scent drifted into Frank's awareness. Familiar and warm, it seemed to envelop him, surround him. "Matt," he murmured under his breath. He balled his left hand into a fist, feeling the ring he had placed on his pinky finger. His Matt.

Relief soon drifted into concern. Frank's eyes scoured the room for any sign of his mate. A faint flash of red appeared out of the corner of a side-window. He watched as the body of a guard went down silently, then quickly surveyed the eyes in the room. Nobody had noticed, yet. Frank had to keep it that way. He set his jaw tightly and stared down at the steak knife mere inches from his hand.

* * * * *

Matt hadn't expected to answer two questions in one night, but as he had moved to recon the Alissi mansion he could feel/hear/smell Frank. HIs heartbeat had been erratic at first, then eerily slow. He was distressed. Matt scaled the wall and cleared the first few lookouts, then approached a nearby window where the muffling of the voices got clearer.

He quickly took count of the heartbeats besides Frank's. His heart sank when he realized that two had sped up, then quickly stopped, one right after the other. He knew he needed to act fast.

Matt took out guards 4, 5, and 6 with ease. With all the lookouts down for the count, he opened the front door and easily slipped inside.

He could hear the booming voice continue, "A few more adjustments, and with the Affect sweeping through Hell's Kitchen, who's going to stop us?"

"What about my brother?" He made out Franco Alissi's voice with ease. "He hasn't done nothing! And he's rotting away while that piece of shit lawyer of his is jerking off with /our/ money!"

"Exactly," said Alyosha. "You invest in this endeavor with us, you can /have/ that piece of shit lawyer for breakfast if you want, and bust your brother out."

Matt steadied himself, twisting apart his bully stick to make two batons.

"When you gonna kill that son-of-a-bitch?"

Matt could only assume the conversation had switched to Frank. No more Mr. Nice Daredevil. He kicked the door to the dining room off its hinges and two more guards rushed at him. He hit them both with either baton before they could draw thier weapons.

The Alissi's jumped out of thier chairs in fright and the tall man in the black blazer looked stunned. "Who the hell are you?"

"Let him go," Matt growled.

Frank made a move--Matt could only assume he had bought him the split-second of time that Frank needed to act on the plan that he had already been formulating--grabbing the steak knife off the table and pointing it right at Alexei's throat. "Give me the fucking remote," he spat.

Alexei dropped the slim black box into his open hand.

"I knew this would backfire!," spat the elder Alissi.

Alyosha turned to the last remaining guards, whose guns were drawn, and shouted, "Get them out of here!"

Daredevil stepped aside as the Alissi's exited. The dynamics had changed, and sometimes you have to pick your battles.

"If you hurt her," Alyosha growled at Frank.

"That's up to you," Frank mumured, his voice broken but gaining strength.

"You know," Alyosha muttered, digging into his pocket. "If my Father taught me anything, it was..." He produced an identical slim, black remote. "Always come prepared."

Frank's eyes went dead and he released Alexei, who ran out of the room, the same direction of the Alissi's.

Matt knew he didn't have very long. The Alissi's were regrouping. Reinforcements would be there soon.

"Kill him," Alyosha said.

Matt blinked. He turned towards Frank, who stalked his way around the table, following Matt's movement. "Frank," Matt muttered. He could feel himself shrinking away.

Frank's hand slipped around his throat and squeezed. Matt easily spun out of his grasp and shoved Frank back with a roundhouse. Frank clammered backwards into the table, but caught himself on the edge. Matt used his sonar, locating the first remote. He would have to dive for it. He sailed across the dining room table, landing onto the other side, grasping the remote. He just prayed one of these was the right button.

Alyosha's laugh echoed through the hall. "You idiot, he's not going to listen to /you/."

Matt hit a random button, the one on the lower left, and Frank grabbed his head, steadying himself against the table. Frank's gaze shifted to Matt, and he bared his teeth, lunging across the table at him.

Matt sprang back, trying to keep that table in between him and Frank at all times. "What did you do to him?," he couldn't stop himself from asking.

Alyosha belted out a laugh. Apparently, Matt had come in after the fact--the tall man was done monologuing.

"Frank," Matt murmured, his voice lilting. Thier eyes met.

Frank balled his left fist. He was visibly shaking, now.

"KILL him," Alyosha ordered again.

Frank lunged. Matt raised his baton, striking Frank on the back of the head, but that left him open. Frank's fist connected with his solar plexus, sending Matt toppling onto the table. Frank's hand wrapped around Matt's throat with an iron grasp, and he roared, swiping Matt across the table, sending food and wine flying, shattering glass, tearing the table skirt up with it.

Matt gasped for air and focused on Frank's arm. If he could hit him hard enough, he could break free. He used his baton, and within a few strikes, heard Frank's arm crack. Matt winced. He had to stop himself from saying sorry.

Frank's hand eased up, and Matt was able to suck in a deep breath. He kicked at the much bigger man, wrapping his legs around one of Frank's, toppling him off-balance. They both went crashing to the floor.

Alyosha's laughter returned. "OH, we could do this all night!"

Matt honed in on his footsteps coming around the table.

Frank was on top of him again, crushing him. Instinctively, Matt's legs curled upwards, protecting his stomach.

"He's not going to stop, you know." Alyosha chimed. "He listens to me, now."

"Frank," Matt choked out, reaching up to touch Frank's emotionless face. "I know you're in there."

"Ohh yes! Please, beg him to stop. Tell him how much the world needs him. Hell, tell him you're his mother, he's under MY command." Alyosha patted Frank's head. "My perfect little war dog."

"Frank," Matt pleaded. He gasped for breath, but his windpipe was being crushed; there was no air to be found. Matt's hand shifted to his stomach. He touched his lower half, bringing Frank's hand to rest there. "The...baby."

Frank started to shake.

Alyosha's mouth dropped open. "HAH. So, you have it too, huh? An Omega, no less. Oh God that really is priceless! Frank's pregant little bitch."

Alyosha kicked Frank off Matt, haluing him up, meeting him in the face. "So, you must be...wait. Let me guess....Daredevil?"

Matt lunged for the remote. Stupid bad-guys. They get cocky, and it leaves them open. His foot connected with Alyosha's face, and the remote flew up into the air. Matt caught it easily and crushed the damn thing under his boot. It snapped and sparked and went dead.

He could hear Frank gasp a little behind him.

"You back?," Matt asked.

"Yeah," Frank said.

"Cool." Matt stalked towards Alyosha.

Alyosha grabbed a ceremonial sword from the wall and pointed it at Matt.

"That's probably not very sharp." Now it was Matt's turn to gloat. "They don't usually fine-tune those things before hanging them up for decoration."

"It'll just hurt more going in," Alyosha said with a grin.

"Touche." Matt lunged with a roar, his baton stopping the downward swing of the sword.

Frank grabbed the other remote, destroying it with his good arm, grinding it into the floor. He found Matt's baton and threw it towards him.

Matt caught it easily, clicking the two pieces back together and ramming the end against Alyosha's chest.

Frank took over and held Alyosha against the wall, the sword wavering between them. "You piece of shit," Frank growled.

"You can kill me," Alyosha groaned against him. "But that won't change what you did. You killed innocents today. You're a fucking murderer. No better than my father. No better than the people who took out your lowlife family!"

"You're wrong," Matt said, holstering his bully stick.

"Am I?" Alyosha chuckled. "Ask your Alpha whose necks he just snapped. Whose life he ended."

"Shut up!" Frank growled, his naked hand grasping the sword, pointing it upward. "Your father was a piece of shit, just like you. I took him out. Now it's your turn, Alyosha."

Alyosha glared at Frank as the tip of the blade sank in underneath his chin. "Call me...KRAVEN."

Frank drove the sword upward, even as Matt shouted "no!" behind him. The blade sliced through Alyosha, the sound of snapping bone and sinew drowing out his bellowing cry. Bloody foam spilled out of his mouth as he let out a death-rattle and slumped forward. Frank stepped back, letting the body drop.

"Nobody hurts my family," Frank growled.

"Goddamn it, Castle!" Shouted Matt.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Frank and Matt's run-in with the son of Kraven. They face the idea of becoming fathers.

Frank had had the perfect plan in mind. He was going to kill Kraven's murderous bastard of a son, and then he was going to kill himself. After all, how could he go on living? He had taken the lives of two innocents, and left the other one to a smiliar fate, most likely. He had stopped himself just short of killing Matt. He didn't deserve to live. Alyosha was right in one aspect--Frank would never be able to change the fact that he himself was a murderer. The reason why didn't matter. Two people were dead, and it was Frank's doing. 

But then....

Frank couldn't stop himself from stretching his hand out, his fingers splayed wide over Matt's slightly rounded stomach. Matt jumped a little in his seat, but then relaxed to the touch. Frank studied Matt's face carefully, and Matt faced away, as if he were aware that Frank was watching him. 

Frank's fingers suddenly felt the bump of a thick patch of dressing under the fabric of Matt's clean tee-shirt. "What's this?," he asked.

"Long story," Matt said. "It's sore, so..." Matt's fingers curled around Frank's and pushed his hand down and away. Frank's brow furled, feeling the connection of thier auras slowly breaking apart. He swallowed hard, the loss of the connection too much to bear, and rolled his head away to stare up at the celing. 

Frank was once again lying on a slab staring up at a blinding white light, but at least this time he was in his own compound. Only the dress pants of the monkey suit remained; he and Matt had stripped to skivvies as soon as they had reached the safehouse, and opted for a pile of clean clothes from Frank's makeshift closet. Matt's second stop had been the shower, and Frank's was the aptly named Central Room, where he would patch himself up and play damage control. 

"This is going to take me a while." Darus, his self-named "sidekick" was a scrawny black kid (about age 11 or 12, Frank guessed) with a baby face and a knack for computers. 

"You sure you know what you're doing?," Matt asked, raking a hand through his wet hair as the kid dug through a black tool bag, producing a dozen different instruments and laying them out on the table beside Frank. 

Abby the pit bull, who was firmly planted between Frank's legs and had been since they hobbled back to the compound, let out a whine as if to add her concern to Matt's.

"Hush, sweet pea," Frank murmured, patting her head and stroking back one silky-soft ear. "Did she get her dinner?" 

"Yeah," Darus said, a screwdriver clenched between his teeth as he worked with the precision of a bomb tech on the solid metal collar still clamped around Frank's neck. "As soon as I got done with practice I came over to check on her." 

"Aren't your parents concerned about where you are?," Matt asked.

Darus looked up at him, incredulous. "Uhm. That's why I have a cell phone." He looked down at Frank. "Is this dude for real?"   
Matt cracked a smile from the corner of his mouth, shaming himself inwardly for being so old. "Right. Sorry." 

"This is some high-quality, grade-A titanium shit," Darus remarked, turning back to the task at hand. 

"Language," Frank muttered. 

"What? You say "fuck" all the time." 

"That's different, kid." Frank murmured, adjusting the ice pack over his ribs, letting out a pained puff of air.

Darus shook his head. "Sure it is." 

Frank had questions clammering around in his aching brain that he wanted so badly to ask Matt. But he knew that he would most likely be met with silence or unclear excuses interrupted by uncomfortable pauses. Frank was pretty sure neither of them were ready for that. He switched gears to keep himself from going insane and murmured, "I've got to go back for that kid."

"We will," Matt confirmed. "We just had to regroup." 

"Yeah." Frank dared another glance Matt's way, convinced Matt would know if he were being watched. He didn't care how corny it sounded. Maybe it was the alpha in him that swelled with pride and determination at the prospect of having a family again. A painful tinge remained, however, as he thought of his wife and children who were long gone. Frank's Commander had once used a term for the mindset of the men who remained after losing brothers on the battlefield---"survivor's guilt". Was that what he was feeling? His jaw muscles flexed. It was exactly what Frank had to do now.

He would murder anyone who stood as a threat; he would tear thier spines from thier backs with his bare hands and a smile on his face while singing "cumbaya", if that's what it took.

* * * * * 

Matt didn't have a word for whatever Frank and he were. A 'thing"? A couple? And what did that even mean? Frank seemed to know exactly what they were.

It had become commonplace, in the following months, for Frank to just "be there", wherever Matt happened to be. Frank's scent--his aura--whatever that feeling/smell/presence was--became a constant reminder to Matt that he was never quite "alone". As annoying Matt found it, there was an instinctual gratitude and a warm-fuzzy feeling that came with   
Frank's presence. Was that part of the Affect, too? It pissed him off to no end. 

After a few weeks of coming home to the sleeping giant passed out on the couch, Matt had finally given in and had an extra key made. Matt and Foggy's Tuesday nights at the apartment were spent researching cases while Frank experimented with Matt's kitchen. Some Tuesdays, dinner was edible. Other Tuesdays, they ended up taking the batteries out of the smoke alarms and ordering pizza. The result of a man who fueled his life on MRE's, Matt supposed. 

He was angry and annoyed that Frank was there, and was especially pissed off at the fact that a major part of him /liked/ that Frank was there. 

It was a lot like having a cockroach in his apartment; a very large cockroach that put the toilet paper in backwards and stashed M-80s in the closet. 

But as many problems as Matt had with this new situation, Daredevil had it much, much worse. 

The closet door swung forcibly shut. "You tell me who," Frank's voice was rough, dark. "You tell me who it is and I will take care of it." 

Matt blew out his breath slowly and gripped the closet handle. "I can take care of it," a low growl eminated from the back of his throat. 

"No," Frank towered over Matt, shaking his head and puffing out his chest. "No, I'm not going to let you do that." 

"I don't need your permission," Matt snapped, pulling against the door while Frank leaned his weight onto it. "And you'll be buying me a new closet door." 

Frank's body moved inward, nearly pushing Matt's out of the way. "I fucking swear, Red. You're not going."

Matt could no longer hide the fact that he was carrying; though Omegas never got as big or carried as long as traditional pregnancies, their bellies were obvious. Matt hadn't had a lot of time to explore his options, and his adapted method of "conceal and deny" wasn't cutting it any more. The last few times out, he had opted for a more traditional approach, much like what he had started out with--red pants, black top, black bandanna over his eyes. It was functional, though not exactly practical. He missed squeezing into his red leather suit. He missed his flat stomach and the abs he had worked so hard to maintain. It was as if his identity was being slowly stolen.

He and Frank hadn't mated since his heat. Things had been stale between them, not for lack of Frank's efforts, and Matt was being faced head-on with a parasite taking over his body. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not going to fight you on this," he stated. Through his red-framed glasses, his eyes bore a hole in Frank's skull.

"Red," Frank's voice was soft now, gentle. He dipped his head to the wall and planted a hand against the small of Matt's back. So he was trying /that/ approach. 

/Oh no you don't./

Matt still had it, damn it. He swung an uppercut, clipping Frank in the chin and sending him on his heels. Frank stumbled backwards momentarily, then swept a leg under Matt, who easily jumped the attempt. Matt's punches from there landed on Frank's crossed forearms, and Matt wasn't so sure he was fighting Frank as much as he was fighting the situation. He aimed lower, for Frank's stomach, and Frank easily caught his wrist, twisting his arm and pulling Matt against him. "Piece of shit---!" Matt ground out, captured but still struggling. 

Frank lunged, pinning Matt against the wall, his hands behind his back. "STOP." He barked. 

Matt stopped, his breath shaky, a tear threatening to roll down from the corner of his eye. His hormones and the adrenaline and whatever this Omega virus was were gnawing away at his nerves. And then there was Frank, whose touch reacted with his skin and sent all these equally confusing feel-good signals straight to Matt's synapses. Whatever the affect was doing to Matt, it seemed to be doing it to Frank, too. 

As the moments ticked away and Matt knew Frank was staring at him, entire conversations happening in just his gaze. Frank touched their foreheads together, and Matt's heartbeat instinctually slowed. Frank dipped his mouth to touch Matt's and Matt let out a useless growl before his lips parted, accepting the kiss. "I know," Frank murmured, and he let Matt's arms drop to his sides. He brought a thumb up to sweep it across Matt's bottom lip. 

Matt stayed still, expecting Frank to continue. After all, he was an Alpha--wasn't that what Frank wanted? 

"Claire was my first kiss," Frank said. Oh lovely, so they were sharing stories now. Matt frowned but Frank continued, unphased. "We had this, uh--this little spot by the lake where she lived. We went there almost every day. We'd hold hands and uh--" Frank let out a small, sad laugh "--we'd take a hot dog and a piece of string and fish for panheads. I wasn't the romantic type, of course, and I had been in the military since I was sixteen, so I didn't really have time for girls." 

Matt could feel himself relaxing into Frank. 

"Anyway, I had been so nervous about that day. That was the day I was going to kiss her, to finally kiss her. And of course, it was awkward. She-she did just fine. She leaned in and was ready and all, probably wondering what had taken me so long--and I missed and kissed her eyebrow instead. We laughed about that years." Frank swept his hand across Matt's cheek, collecting a tear that had fallen there. Matt's eyes fluttered a little, him not having known it was there. 

Matt let slip a small smile. "Please don't tell me about your first time, okay?" 

Frank chuckled, and wrapped his arms around Matt's waist. "You feel like all my firsts," he cooed, covering Matt's mouth with his own. 

Matt felt a shock-wave of completeness soar through him and shivered. His arms reciprocated, coiling around Frank's broad back, his nails scraping the taught muscle underneath his tee-shirt. Instinctually, his mouth opened with a puff of breath and captured Frank's tongue, lapping at it with a moan. 

Frank's fingers found their way underneath the waistband of Matt's slacks and easily slipped inside. Matt's ass was round, the skin warm and smooth, and Frank took as much of the flesh as his hands could grasp. 

Frank's scent surrounded Matt, now, blocking out all other senses and drowning him in the smells of fresh dirt, gunpowder, and a hint of chocolate. Frank brushed their bellies together, crushing Matt up against the wall, and Matt's legs parted easily, his hips mounted on Frank's waist. He couldn't quite figure out what was going on--he couldn't have been in heat, because he was carrying. Yet the more Frank touched, the more sparks flew, and that drove Matt crazy. He crushed their mouths together, his fingers winding around the short hair on the back of Frank's head to gain leverage. 

"Red!" Frank moaned, happily surprised. 

It wasn't long before Frank hauled him off to the bedroom, shooing an indignant Abby and her bone off the bed, landing in a tangle of arms and legs with Matt atop the plush covers. 

 

\--end--


	5. artwork

[](http://s611.photobucket.com/user/Jamie_Lyn_Gaskin/media/CoffeeTime_zpsw5dkhanq.jpg.html)


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